


The Shades Between

by herwhiteknight



Series: give my new body a chance [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Gen, Nonbinary Character, Self-Discovery, Suit Shopping!, also ft. blink and you'll miss it Schneekos, ft. brief appearance from ruby and weiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herwhiteknight/pseuds/herwhiteknight
Summary: Pyrrha skilfully plaits sections of Blake's hair over on itself, and an intricate braid starts to take shape. "You'll look so beautiful when I've finished," she smiles into the mirror as she stands over Blake's shoulder."I...," Blake starts, frowning. "No, that's not what I want.""What then?"It’s the patience that the question is asked, the complete lack of presumption or judgment, that makes Blake spill what’s been chasing through her mind for the past few hours. Days. Lifetimes. “I want to be handsome,” she blurts.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna & Pyrrha Nikos, Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Series: give my new body a chance [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911724
Comments: 18
Kudos: 120





	The Shades Between

It takes Blake eleven days to finally settle into the idea that she might actually be _safe_ at Beacon. She’s surrounded by hunters and huntresses in training, renowned teachers and a sprawling campus that’s surrounded by walls of thick stone. Everything bristles with an aura of power, of protection. 

Adam can’t find her here. She’s safe. 

So, with that knowledge of safety, she allows her heart to settle into something that resembles something that feels a little like comfort. She’s already felt so much warmth and love from her new teammates - her partner, _Yang_ , especially - and everything’s starting so quickly to feel like home. Except that she’s never honestly felt this _free_ before. Her life had practically been one rally after another since she could lift a wooden sign, and her _care_ under Adam had been far from that.

So she settles, safe, free and surrounded by love, and allows herself to consider something for herself that she only ever dreamt about before.

It starts with a team sparring match against JNPR. More specifically, the communal locker room where the spare clean uniforms were kept to be changed into after training sessions. She watches the boys neatly tuck their spares into the cubbies alongside one wall, Ren’s far more pristine than Jaune’s, as she stacks her own uniform on top of Yang’s. There’s plenty of other empty spaces for her to store her gear separately of course, but they’re partners. It makes sense. It feels right.

Outside, as they take their positions for warm up, Blake drills through the motions feeling off-kilter. Stretching the muscles of her lower body feels particularly… unsettling. Something about bending down in the skirt of her uniform… she knows that she’s not exposed, but the back of her neck tingles uncomfortably the whole time anyway.

The discomfort continues through the entire match, resulting in a pretty handy victory for JNPR. She can tell that Yang’s been keeping an eye on her through the whole thing, more than a fighting partner should - and Blake can’t tell how she feels about that. Yang’s attention is… something she _wants_ , but - not like this, dressed as she is.

“Is… everything alright, Blake?” Yang asks her after they've showered, her voice drifting underneath the steam that wreaths through the room. 

"I'm just fine, Yang," she says, quick to reassure. Because how can she explain to Yang that some days she doesn't feel like herself when she wears a skirt? "A little tired - I think Ruby's sleeptalking kept me awake last night." _Way to throw your leader under the bus, idiot._

"I can talk to her-"

"There's no need," Blake starts sharply, then winces at Yang's taken aback expression. "I'm sorry, it's just… I'll get used to it. Don't worry."

"Okay…," Yang replies uncertainly. "Um, well, do you wanna walk to the cafeteria for lunch together?"

Blake catches Pyrrha making her way out of the dressing room, long hair hanging wet and tangled around her shoulders, and makes a split second decision. "No, I… that's okay. I mean - save me a seat? I just need to stop by the dorm first," she says, waving Yang and her kind heart away for now. Blake's sure she would understand, wouldn't judge her for wanting a boy's uniform, but a small seed of an idea has started to grow, and she wants to know what it'll look like when it fully blooms. Or rather, how Yang will look at _her_ **_._ **

"Sure, I'll see you there then," Yang says, confusion slowing her tone down. But she turns and heads out into the hallway and disappears from sight.

Blake blinks after her for a long moment, hoping she didn't just make a huge mistake and ruin their burgeoning friendship - Yang is too kind to be ruined by someone like her. She'll make it up to her. But first-

"Blake?" Pyrrha's voice makes her jump slightly, even though she _was_ the reason that Blake had stayed behind in the first place. "Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

She squashes down the temptation to get defensive - Adam never liked being questioned, and it's something that he had hammered into Blake's psyche. But she's free of him. She's free. And this is another step in proving that. "Yes. There is, actually," she swallows, suddenly nervous as she settles herself down on the counter in front of the mirrors as Pyrrha brushes her hair. Or rather, uses her semblance to pull a steel-framed brush through the ends of her hair. 

"What's on your mind, dear?" Pyrrha says, and the term of endearment would be weird if it wasn't coming from Pyrrha's mouth. It's that feeling of familiarity, of calmness and ease, that had drawn Blake towards her in the first place, when she first considered this idea. Nora was too… well, Nora. And Jaune and Ren both seemed very nice too - but Adam left her skittish. And, as much as she hated it, the thought of being around _any_ unfamiliar man just made her skin crawl.

She shakes her head, forcing her thoughts back into the present. To Pyrrha. "I was wondering if you could…," she pauses, frowns. Realizes a split second before she's about to ask that what she's actually asking for is stupid. Asking Pyrrha to get her one of her partner's uniforms is _stupid_.

"Blake, whatever it is," Pyrrha says gently, covering Blake's hand with both of her own. Behind her, the brush she's controlling with her semblance keeps up its long rhythmic strokes down the length of her hair. It gives Blake something to focus on. Pyrrha continues as Blake's eyes track over her shoulder, "You can talk to me. I promise."

Blake inhales slowly, shakily. Pyrrha squeezes her hand and offers her a kind grin, and it reaches her soft green eyes, crinkles the skin at the corners and lifts the freckles dotting across her cheeks. Everything about her is warm. Safe. So very unlike Adam - just how everything about this place isn't like him. Especially Yang. Bolstered, she blurts, "Could you steal one of Jaune's uniforms for me?"

Pyrrha blinks in surprise, and behind her, the brush quivers in the air, starts to fall - Pyrrha catches herself. Resumes brushing. “Steal his uniform?” she asks slowly, as if she’s making sure she’s heard right.

“It’s - I…,” Blake stutters, then shakes her head once, sharply. She hops off the counter. “Never mind, it’s just stupid.”

Pyrrha catches her shoulder just as she turns away. Her grip is gentle, but it still makes Blake flinch, just a little. Pyrrha seems to notice this, and pulls away, but calls out to her all the same. “Would you like me to braid your hair?” she asks.

“I- what?”

“It’s something my mother used to do for me,” Pyrrha explains, patting the countertop in front of the mirror. “Whenever I had something on my mind that I couldn’t talk about, she’d sit me down and braid and rebraid my hair over and over again until I was ready to talk - if I wanted.”

“I…,” Blake starts again, but it’s slower. Calmer. She thinks of her own mother, weaving little flowers into her hair for no reason at all, and there’s an ache in her chest for the feeling of _home_. She settles down on the counter in front of Pyrrha once more. “I’d like that,” she murmurs.

Pyrrha gently runs her fingers through Blake’s hair for a moment. “Just tell me if you’re not comfortable at any time, alright?” she says, pausing for a moment, waiting for Blake’s confirmation. Blake nods, and Pyrrha continues, parting her hair into three simple strands.

“Could you- I mean… do you know anything other than a traditional braid?” Blake asks, looking at Pyrrha in the mirror as she stood behind her.

Pyrrha hums, considering Blake’s profile in the mirror before her for a long moment. Then she takes a section of Blake’s hair from the left side of her head and loosely braids together a few strands so that it starts to wrap around the back of her head before finishing over the right shoulder, the tail of it resting on her chest. “What about something like that?”

Blake reaches up to the left side of her head, feeling the uneven pattern just above her ear, and turns her head. Her jawline stands in sharp relief under the harsh lighting of the locker room and _something_ flutters in her chest at the sight. She looks _strong._ “Yes,” she breathes, “exactly that.”

Pyrrha nods, calm and sure, and runs her fingers through Blake’s hair. “Would you like me to use your own brush or comb? Or I could clean mine for you first.”

“Yours is fine,” Blake says with a shrug. “Whatever is easiest for you, I don’t want to burden you even more.”

Pyrrha pauses for a moment as she meticulously removes the deep red hair from between the tines and deposits them in the trash. Then she starts her work, pulling the brush through Blake’s hair in long and even strokes. It hardly tugs on her scalp, which surprises Blake - her hair is usually a rat’s nest after combat practice, even with a shower. Finally, Pyrrha speaks up, “You aren’t a burden, Blake. Not at all.”

 _Yes I am,_ she answers in her head, and it’s a truth she’s lived with for so long that she doesn’t even know that it’s a lie that has consumed her entire world. “I cost our team the match today,” she says instead.

“We all make mistakes,” Pyrrha says, gently sweeping Blake’s hair over to the right side of her back to give herself enough space to braid. “But that doesn’t mean we are defined by them.”

“Aren’t we though?” Blake whispers softly, her fists tightening in her lap as she casts her gaze downwards. Belatedly, she realizes that by simply looking down, she’d messed up Pyrrha’s careful set up. _Another mistake_.

Pyrrha sets down the brush and slips a warm hand underneath Blake’s chin from behind her. Her gentle touch lifts her head to face the mirror, to see Pyrrha standing behind her, so tall and sure and strong - everything Blake isn’t. “If we truly were our mistakes, then I dare say that you wouldn’t be here at Beacon right now, would you?”

Blake fights a moment of panic before settling. She’d told them. They knew. They knew about her involvement in the White Fang, and they had stayed anyway. Even Weiss. “Leaving that all behind was the one good thing I’ve done after all the damage I’ve caused,” she concedes, wordlessly gathering her hair evenly behind her shoulders once more.

Pyrrha picks up the silent cue and begins her work on the side braid once more. “Life isn’t about outweighing good with bad, as if we’re constantly seeking atonement,” Pyrrha says softly, separating different strands between her fingers delicately. “I think it’s about making choices that make us happy. And the ones around us happy.”

 _Happiness…._ The concept felt so foreign in Blake’s mind. It was like she was on the verge of being burned by flames while everyone else sat around a campfire and enjoyed its warmth. But she could learn to feel it too - without drawing back in fear or from pain. “This makes me happy,” Blake says, gesturing to the braid. Pyrrha’s fingers are gentle and sure as they twist hair back and forth without abrupt tugging or tangling.

“I’m glad that you asked me,” Pyrrha smiles, making her way down across Blake’s neck. “You’ll look so beautiful when it’s done.”

Blake almost shakes her head before catching herself. Instead, she just frowns. “No, I… that’s not what I want. Not right now.”

“What then?” 

It’s the patience that the question is asked, the complete lack of presumption or judgement, that makes Blake spill what’s been chasing through her mind for the past few hours. Days. Lifetimes. “I want to be handsome,” she blurts. Then immediately flushes.

Despite the embarrassment, it feels so freeing to say it finally. _Handsome. Masculine._ Things she realized that had been a part of her all along, but were buried deep down.

“That’s why you wanted Jaune’s uniform,” Pyrrha realizes as she nudges at Blake’s shoulder so that she turns slightly towards her to allow her to finish up the braid. She produces an elastic from her pocket and wraps it neatly around the end of the braid, leaving a little tuft behind. 

Blake nods, taking in Pyrrha’s work as she turns her head from side to side. She tilts her head again as before, lifts her chin and - _there_ . Strong. Defined. A weight settles in her chest, but it’s warm. _Is this what it feels like to be happy?_ “I didn’t want anyone to know. Not at first. And especially not Yang.”

A glint of something that seems a little _too_ mischievous to be coming from someone like Pyrrha shines in forest green. “Do you think Yang will be... upset?” she asks, her voice a little too light to hide anything but the onset of a tease.

“I - no, that’s not what I’m-” Blake protests with a grumble, cutting herself off with a sigh. “I… don’t make me say it.”

“You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to, dear,” Pyrrha reassures softly, offering out her hand. Blake takes it, even though it’s completely unnecessary, and hops down from the counter. Pyrrha continues as she gathers up her brush and shower kit, “Though I can understand _why_ you want to impress Yang. She’s quite the catch on campus, I believe.”

Blake blushes, completely at a loss for words to be able to find a response for _that_ . After a few moments, just as they’re leaving the locker rooms, Blake mumbles, “I just want her to look at me and see the person that I feel like I am inside, you know? For _everyone_ to… but she’s special.”

Pyrrha smiles, offering her arm out to Blake. “Then I believe we can do much better than simply stealing one of Jaune’s uniforms, don’t you?”

Blake links her arm through Pyrrha’s and walks down the hall with her side by side. “Exactly what did you have in mind?” Blake quirks her eyebrow at her.

“Why don't you text Yang and ask her to meet us in town after lunch? You and I are going to do a little shopping," Pyrrha says, that mischievous glint in her eyes growing playful as she leads Blake outside.

It's a short ten minute walk from campus to the store that Pyrrha has in mind, but it feels like an entirely different world to Blake when they step inside the suit shop. There's so many different styles and cuts of jackets and what seems like hundreds of different colours and patterns of ties. "I…," she gapes. "I don't even know where to begin…."

"Well, unfortunately, we are _a little_ limited at what we can buy for you - the suit shouldn't stand out all that much from the other boy's uniforms," Pyrrha says, nodding to the sales clerk as he picks up on their conversation. "But that doesn't mean we can't buy you a nice purple shirt or tie underneath the traditional black."

"Something in between," Blake finds herself muttering, thinking about the red of the girl's uniform and the blue of the boy's as she runs her hand down a gorgeous deep purple tie. She catches sight of what she thinks is a pattern subtly embossed along its length. Upon closer inspection, it looks like flowers.

"Ah, you have a good eye, miss," the clerk says, lifting the tie from its hanger on the shelf.

Blake stiffens at the gendered term, her breath freezing in her lungs. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she catches an encouraging nod from Pyrrha. She exhales. "Sir," she corrects, gesturing to herself. A rush hits her chest as she says it aloud.

Without missing a beat, "This lovely paisley pattern here is one of our newer lines, sir. Just understated enough to be subtle, but still quite bold at closer look."

The rush hits her again, and she feels a little lightheaded from giddiness. Breathless now, she speaks without thinking, "May I try it on?"

"Why, of course!" he says with a flourish. "And allow me to pick out a suit for you as well - I believe I heard your partner say that you were looking for a suit to match the current school uniform?"

"That's correct," Pyrrha speaks up, and Blake whirls, having almost forgotten that Pyrrha was there in all her nervous excitement. "And if it's possible, I'd like to have it fitted. I will pay for the alterations." The clerk nods, and disappears towards the back of the shop.

Blake stares at her, eyes wide and nearly brimming over with tears. "You… you don't have to do that," she whispers.

"I _want_ to," she says firmly, resting her hand on Blake's shoulder as they both turn to look into a full-length mirror. "Plus," she lowers her voice in a conspiratorial whisper, "I think Yang might explode on the spot when she sees you in a suit."

A sudden bout of nervousness hits Blake's chest at the thought of Yang seeing her in a suit. Familiar doubt creeps into her veins. "But what if she doesn't?"

Pyrrha slides her hand down Blake’s shoulder to take her hand, warm. She dips her head a little so that she can really look into Blake’s eyes, sincerity fully on display. “Do you trust me, Blake?”

Strangely enough, Blake hardly feels herself hesitate before she nods. There’s something about Pyrrha that had always felt like a blanket to hide under during a thunderstorm, like an unread book that she knew she was going to love after a few pages in. “Yes, I do trust you,” she says.

“I’m glad,” Pyrrha says, squeezing her hand gently before leading Blake over to the dressing room at the clerk’s gesture. “Are you ready?”

“More than anything,” Blake says, taking in a long breath to steady herself. Then she steps into the change room to do something for herself - something that she chose on her own. And something, she knows, that will make her happy.

She ends up choosing the same jacket as the current uniform - _“The gold detailing really brings out your eyes, sir.”_ \- but the crucial change comes in the vest and tie that she picks out. As much as she’d been drawn to that purple paisley tie, once she’d caught sight of a gorgeous royal purple vest, it was all over. And, with the helpful advice of the sales clerk, a yellow tie was quickly paired with it.

“It’ll match my eyes best,” Blake mutters when Pyrrha smirks slyly over at her. It had _nothing_ to do with Yang. Nothing at all.

“Of course it will,” is all Pyrrha says as the tailor steps up and starts taking her measurements. She’s a pretty woman with cropped auburn hair and freckles dusting all over her cheeks. She reminds Blake of Ilia, of home. Of her mom braiding flowers in her hair.

“Thank you,” Blake says, feeling like she hasn’t been saying it enough. She reaches up and touches her braid that hadn’t had a single hair distubed despite the shirts and jackets being pulled over her head again and again for the last half hour. 

“I should be thanking you,” Pyrrha replies, watching Blake slowly take in the image of herself in the mirror as she stands on the platform while the tailor marks different places on the suit. Most of the adjustments are in the length of the pants, as well as around the waistline of the jacket. Blake feels a small shiver of pride as she notes that the shoulders of the suit are entirely untouched - having a broader frame as well as muscle definition from all the work outs and training sessions were something she’d always appreciated about her body.

“How come?” she asks, fiddling with the knot of the tie, cinching it a little tighter to the base of her neck before smoothing down the sharply pressed collar of the white dress shirt.

“For letting me in. All of us,” Pyrrha says. “My team and yours, it’s an honor to be part of your life, Blake. Truly, it is.”

Blake blushes faintly as the tailor steps back with a satisfied nod. She opens her mouth to reply, her fingers finding the little tuft of her braid, when the tailor speaks up. “Pardon, I don’t mean to interrupt. But would you mind walking a few steps to the door and back and telling me how the hem feels at your ankles?”

“Oh, of course,” Blake says, stepping off the platform and walking around on the floor for a few steps, glancing around her surroundings before lifting her foot and kicking out in a precise roundhouse. She doesn’t need to do that _at all_ , but there’s too much energy flooding her veins for her to _not_. She heads back to the fitting area to catch Pyrrha shaking her head bemusedly at her and to see the tailor clamp her jaw shut just a little too quickly as a blush overtakes her freckles. “I think this will do just nicely, thank you.”

“Uh… yes, of course,” the tailor nods, packing away the rest of her tools. “I can have these alterations done in the next few hours if you would like to pick them up today - though, you’ll need to pay in advance for that…”

“That’s not a problem at all,” Pyrrha waves her hand easily. “I will handle everything, alright Blake? You just go ahead and get changed, dear.”

Blake’s on the verge of protesting, of saying something about not being worth the trouble when she catches sight of herself in the mirror and sees herself. Really _sees_ herself. For once, somehow, she doesn’t see a scared little girl, beaten and molded within the rage of someone else’s forge. She sees a bright, fierce woman - or someone in between. And she’s burning her own path for herself.

“Okay,” she agrees softly, stepping off the platform once more to carefully remove the uniform. And when she puts her old school uniform back on, she no longer feels foreign in her own skin. She smiles, steps out, and takes it all as progress.

Pyrrha treats her to lunch as well, though Blake insists on buying dessert. “It’s the least I can do,” she explains as she prods Pyrrha further and further into buying quite an unnecessary amount of toppings for her ice cream sundae. 

Pyrrha accepts gracefully, the way she does everything, though she takes an extra spoon for Blake so that they can share. About halfway through their ice cream, Blake's scroll buzzes. "It's Yang," she says, her spoon clattering against the bowl as she rushes to check the message. Her heart settles somewhere in her throat as she quickly scans the text. "She says she just finished lunch with the girls. And that they'd like to come into town as well…"

"You’re not sure if you’d like Ruby or Weiss to see you just yet, are you?” Pyrrha asks, correctly reading the hesitation in Blake’s voice.

Blake bites her lip, her thumb hovering over the reply button for a long moment. “I want to share this with them all, of course, but….”

“What if you asked Yang to meet you in the shop first? I can meet with Ruby and Weiss here and that way, Yang will be the first one to see you in your new outfit,” Pyrrha says as her own scroll buzzes. “Which is ready to go, actually.”

Blake glances at the time as she stares a little longer at Yang’s text. “They work fast,” she mutters absently, thumbing over the keyboard.

“We don’t have to go over immediately,” Pyrrha says, nudging Blake’s spoon back over to her. “There’s still ice cream to finish!”

Blake glances up at Pyrrha appreciatively, a small smile flickering across the corners of her lips. She just hums as she takes another bite, feeling like spoken words of appreciation would be too loud for the moment. Yang texts back. “What kind of trouble did you and Pyrrha get into?” She signs off her text with a smiley emoticon sticking its tongue out and a peace sign. 

Blake takes a chance. “If you meet me at the tailor’s shop just outside of Vale, you’ll know exactly what kind of trouble Pyrrha and I got into,” she texts back, her heart racing.

It takes Yang only a few seconds before her incoming message sets Blake’s scroll buzzing once more. Her reply was a simple eyes emoticon, followed by a swift double text, “Okay, my interest is piqued. I’ll definitely be there.” And then a final, “Be there in five.”

“Well, _that_ certainly seemed to get her attention,” Pyrrha stifles a laugh as she’d watched Blake’s scroll light up.

“You can keep Ruby and Weiss distracted for a little while, right?” Blake asks, breathless once again.

“Not a problem,” Pyrrha reassures, tipping her head back towards the store. “Go on. And tell the clerk that I will be in afterwards to pay.” 

“Thank you again _so_ much,” Blake rushes over to throw her arms around Pyrrha’s shoulders, gratitude pouring off of her shoulders. Pyrrha returns the embrace, gentle and strong arms tightening around her waist. Blake tries not to think about the last time that she’d ever been so free in her physical expressions of affection, or when she ever was so accepting of them in return. Pushes past those thoughts - feels herself blooming in so many different ways.

When she steps back into the shop, the clerk immediately gestures her towards the back of the store. “Your order is ready, sir,” he says, pulling out a clothing rack and sliding a few coathangers bearing other outfits out of the way before lifting Blake’s suit down for her. 

“May I wear it out of the store?” she asks, accepting the hanger from him.

“As long as it’s paid for, that’s entirely acceptable,” he says.

Just as he’s about to turn and head back to the front to prepare for the transaction, Blake stops him. “My friend will be handling the payment, but she promised that she would be along shortly. Along with a few others.” 

“Ah, a special occasion, is it?” Blake just nods and smiles, a small blush crawling up her cheeks. The clerk nods, “Best of luck to you, then.” He heads back to the front to leave Blake to her own devices. 

Blake steps into the change room, excitement thrumming through her veins. She hangs the suit carefully up on the hook for now, as if it’s gold, before quickly setting about stripping off her old uniform and setting it on the bench beside her. It’s not that she hates it, she hasn’t ever - not really. And some days she appreciates it and admires the way it flatters her curves. But lately, with no other choice between the plaid skirt or her own personal field outfit, it had begun to feel stifling.

That all would change today.

She slips into the pants first, studying the way that they fall in a neat straight line from hip to ankle as she does the button up. She puts her combat boots back on, overcome with a strange desire to savour the moment of putting the upper half of the ensemble altogether. 

She looks in the mirror at herself before putting on the white-button up shirt, wondering if she should be wishing to look different, if she should wish for a flat chest. Wonders if it makes her desires _false_ somehow. Wonders if she’s really just faking everything. 

Adam would say so. 

_No,_ she tells herself fiercely. She’s free of him. She’s _free_ . She’s _safe_ here. She’s loved. Supported. She knows everyone else here will support her in this too. Especially Yang.

“So, where is she?”

Speaking of Yang…. Blake’s heart jumps back into her throat at the sound of her partner’s voice in the space of the interior. Just a few short feet and a curtain separates Yang from Blake’s reveal. And the small problem of not _entirely_ being fully dressed just yet.

She jumps into action as she hears Pyrrha’s voice mollify her for a moment. She bolsters her courage as she buttons up the shirt, tucking it into the waistband of her pants before carefully situating the tie around her neck. She’d memorized the knot that the clerk had demonstrated to her easily and replicates it now, looping the silky yellow fabric around on itself twice over before cinching it tight around her neck and centering it perfectly. 

The gorgeous purple vest comes next. It settles around her shoulders nicely and when it’s all buttoned up, it leaves a nice V-line that displays the complimenting tie in an eye-catching way. She tugs the vest a little so that it comes down perfectly to her hips, tucking the end of the tie within the inside of her vest to hide its tail at her beltline. 

Finally, the jacket. She lifts it reverently off the hanger and slides her arms through the sleeves slowly, like she’s donning armor. The alterations have tightened the waistline just slightly so that it accentuates her curves just a little - and Blake finds that she loves the cut of it. It doesn’t feel boxy, but it shows off the broadness of her shoulders, especially when she settles her hands on her hips. And Blake can’t deny that she looks _good_.

“Blake?” Yang’s voice calls again, much closer. She must be on the other side of the curtain now. “Pyrrha said you were back here, but that I couldn’t come in. What’s going on?”

“Just one moment,” Blake replies, trying her best not to let her nerves bleed into her voice and betray her. She takes one last moment to button up her suit jacket, smooth out her collar and fix her braid carefully over her right shoulder. 

Then she sweeps back the dressing room curtain with one hand and steps out. 

Yang’s looking over her shoulder, laughing at something Pyrrha’s saying to her - scolding her for her impatience perhaps - so she doesn’t see Blake right away. “I just think you two are being very mysterious for no - oh,” she turns finally, her smile freezing on her face when she takes Blake in. 

Blake tries to pull confidence from the moment before, when she was alone in the change room in front of that mirror - but Yang’s faltering smile gives her little to be confident about. “Uh… hey, Yang.”

“ _Oh_ …. Blake, I....,” Yang tries to find words, but nothing seems to make it out past the gaping jaw that’s hanging to the floor. “ _Wow_ , you look… so….”

“I believe a _compliment_ is appropriate here, Yang,” Pyrrha smirks, sidling up to them and leaning against the wall as she crosses her arms. 

Yang shakes her head, blinking rapidly. And, unless Blake is seeing things, she thinks she catches crimson bleeding in through the outer rings of her irises. “Blake, you look so…,” she coughs, clears her throat desperately. 

“ _Blake!_ ” Ruby squeals from the other side of the room, exploding into petals and screeching to a halt next to them.

“I _tried_ to keep her back as long as possible, as you requested Pyrrha,” Weiss says dryly, though there’s a hint of validation-seeking in her voice. 

Pyrrha smiles over at her, her voice soft, “You did perfectly fine, Weiss.” 

“Oh, you look so _awesome!_ ” Ruby continues gushing, uncaring of the multiple gay messes surrounding her. “That jacket looks so _cool_ and that _vest_ -!”

“Some space, please, Ruby?” Pyrrha asks gently, settling a calming hand on her shoulder that hasn’t stopped bouncing since coming over. 

“Oh, yeah, yeah! Right, my bad, sorry,” she flaps her hands a couple of times vigorously, as if she’s trying to clear the air of her excitement. 

Neither Blake or Yang had noticed any of this commotion. Yang, too busy still trying to find words to compliment her partner without sounding like a _creep_ , has taken to staring at a point just over Blake’s shoulder while Blake has chosen to stare at her shoes, shooting the occasional glance upwards at Yang’s slowly reddening face.

Pyrrha shakes her head as she ushers Ruby and Weiss further back towards the front of the store. Ruby takes no time at all in locating the tie section for herself - so she can _match Blake_ \- as Weiss tries to sound casual as she asks Pyrrha about whether or not she’d look good in a suit jacket.

“What do you think?” Blake finally chances asking, lifting her gaze from the floor in an attempt to find Yang’s eyes. 

Yang glances up and meets Blake’s gaze, her cheeks just barely fading to a pink blush. “I think… you look beautiful, Blake.”

Blake bites her lip, trying not to frown. She just needs to ask. To take that step out for herself and say what she wants. “Would you say… that I’m handsome too?”

There’s a moment where Yang processes, takes in Blake’s words with the barest hint of confusion. Then it dawns on her, and she reaches out and takes Blake’s hands into her own. “Of course you’re handsome,” Yang replies with a quiet honesty.

Relief surges through Blake’s body, and she can’t help it when she collapses into Yang’s arms and buries her face into the crook of her neck. She breathes in the scent of her, all sunshine and something like woodsmoke, and holds on. “During practice today, I could feel you watching me the whole time.”

Yang stiffens a little, nervously, and she laughs as she tries to play it off. “Well, we’re partners-”

Blake shakes her head to interrupt her, tightening her grip against Yang’s jacket. “It’s not that I didn’t want you to, I…,” she takes in a shuddering breath. Continues, “I didn’t feel like myself then. And that’s what I want the most - for you to see me as I am. No matter how I look.”

Yang shifts back on her heels as she slips out of the embrace, gently cups Blake’s face in her hands instead. “I’m always going to see you for who you are, Blake. No matter what. You’re my partner, and I care about you. I want you to feel safe with me, okay?”

“I do feel safe with you, Yang,” Blake murmurs, nudging her forehead against Yang’s and closing her eyes. And she does. But more than feeling safe, she realizes that right at this moment, she’s truly happy - and above all that, she finally feels like herself.


End file.
